


you fit me so well

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha Dean Winchester, Alpha John Winchester, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Angst, Daddy Kink, Incest, Jealousy, Knotting, M/M, Masturbation, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Omega Sam Winchester, Parent/Child Incest, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-16
Updated: 2020-06-16
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:46:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24746290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Sam was four years old when he asked his Daddy to marry him.
Relationships: John Winchester/Sam Winchester
Comments: 5
Kudos: 215





	you fit me so well

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: there's one scene when Sam is 12 that's more or less John being there during Sam's heat. He doesn't explicitly touch Sam. 
> 
> Nothing explicitly sexual occurs until Sam is 17. 
> 
> This is my first time writing for this fandom.
> 
> Title from "YFLMD"

John regretted never asking Mary how she’d wanted to teach the boys about status.

Growing up in a family of alphas, she’d been the only beta. She’d had to fight tooth and nail for every little bit of independence until she left the house at eighteen. After that and being a hunter in her own right, she would’ve been damned if she’d let John control her, alpha or not.

She’d never really speculated about what Sam and Dean would be, aside from little comments here and there. Dean would get particularly demanding about getting more milk from her and she’d say “this one’s clearly going to be an alpha”. Sam would pet Dean on the face when he threw a temper tantrum and she’d say Sam would clearly take after her and be a beta.

The older the kids got, the more John started to think about it. Dean was assertive and bossy and, while he’d take orders from John, he never seemed happy about it. If John pushed too hard, Dean would push back. Doing chores when he felt like it, talking back when he thought he could get away with it. John initially thought he’d be thrilled to have an alpha for a son, if Mary’s guess had been right. Though he’d later regret thinking that. After all, for the first few years of his life, Sam was the easy one.

Sam, soft spoken and sweet. Sam, who didn’t seem to care where they stayed as long as his Daddy was there. Sam, who could make anything better when he was pressed nice and tight to John’s side. Curled up next to him in the front seat of the impala. Curled up next to him on squeaky motel mattresses. Nestled against his chest in an old school diner. Didn’t matter if John was dealing with busted ribs, insomnia, a hangover or the overwhelming doubt that crept in at all hours of the day, all it took was one of those sweet smiles and Sam’s soft scent in his nose, and none of the rest of it mattered.

Maybe Mary was right; Sam might never be an alpha. He might never grow into the kind of man that would dedicate his life to hunting, the way John and Dean were certain to in the future. Even Mary had eventually quit to settle down and raise a family. Sammy might like that. He was always so patient and kind to any children he encountered.

The thought occurred one sweltering Texas night, when he was sweating and a four-year-old Sam pressed to his front certainly wasn’t helping. It was the first time John really thought about what all of this might mean.

One day, someone would take his son away.

* * *

It was the first time in a while that John had found a house.

It was only affordable because a few other houses in the community needed work and the maintenance guy had just skipped town. During the days, John worked fixing pipes and pulling weeds. He got a paycheck and the afternoons off to pick the kids up from school. Now, he lay curled up on the edge of Sam’s small twin bed, reading a book that had been sent home with him.

“Mari and Ivan lived happily ever after. The end,” he read tiredly, closing the book. Sam’s head rested on his chest, unusually quiet for the end of story time. He usually had a million questions. Smoothing his fringe back from Sam’s face, John asked, “You alright, sweetheart? You like the story?”

“I don’t get it,” Sam said, squinting up at his father.

“What part?”

“Why do they get married?”

“Well, they love each other.”

“So?”

Laughing, John rearranged them so he could see Sam’s face more clearly. “’So?’” he repeated.

“We love each other. We’re not married,” he said pointedly.

“It’s a different kind of love, kiddo,” he explained with a smile. “When you’re older, you’ll understand. It’s about finding someone you want to spend the rest of your life with. Someone that makes you happy and makes you feel safe.”

Sam thought this over, his brow furrowed in thought. He sat up on his knees, eye level with his father. “Will you marry me, Daddy?”

A warmth expanded in John’s chest, his voice soft with fondness. “You don’t want to marry me, baby.”

“Yes, I do,” he said firmly, eyes fierce and bright.

John smoothed his hair back, smile widening. “Trust me. When you’re older, you’ll meet the right one.”

Sam didn’t quite believe him, but he let his father kiss his forehead and tuck him in. John turned out the light with a smile. Sam rolled over in bed, one thought turning over and over in his mind.

He’d make Daddy change his mind.

* * *

As far back as he could remember, Sam had known he was different.

From his father, from his brother, from the other kids in his class. He didn’t get the weird dance his classmates did around each other. Much rather bury his head in a book than make a fool of himself asking if someone wanted to go down the slide with him or share a box of animal crackers. When he was little, he watched them watching their parents. He used to think that was what made him a freak.

He’d grown up without a mother and his father wasn’t around as much as Sam would’ve liked. He didn’t have anyone to model behavior from, save his brother, who was strange in a completely different way. Sam used to be jealous, thinking Dean at least had four good years. Dean never seemed to struggle to fit in the way Sam did. Maybe because he didn’t care. Sam was never sure if that attitude was all Dean or because he was clearly an alpha, like Dad.

When Dean presented at thirteen, Dad had been thrilled. He’d brought home a cake and he and Dean actually managed to get through a meal without fighting. John had pet him on the back and congratulated him, clearly proud Dean would turn out just like him. The more Sam watched John cheer him on, the more Sam felt that strange familiar pull in his chest.

When he was a kid, he hadn’t had the faculties to process what that feeling was. All he knew was that his Daddy was paying attention to Dean or the waitresses or the cashier at the grocery store, not Sam; and Sam needed to fix that. It kept him close to his Daddy’s side, taking up permanent residence in his lap at diners and crawling into bed beside him whenever it was too cold or he had a nightmare. It kept him finding excuses to keep close to him when he was ten, eleven, and now twelve years old.

It was jealousy, but he wasn’t quite old enough to understand it.

Daddy was the _best._ He was so big and brave and so handsome. No matter where they went, betas were all over him. Smiling at him, offering him extra food, offering to watch Sam while John was at work. John stood tall with his strong arms that made Sam feel safe. He had this deep, gravelly voice that chased the nightmares away. And when he smiled, which he rarely did, it made Sam feel like he could do anything. And John always smiled for Sam.

When he was younger, everyone thought his crush on his father was adorable. Clearly Sam was confused and would grow out of it when he got older. Beta or not, he’d get older and meet some nice boy or girl and fall in love. But the years had come and gone, and now Sam was twelve and his crush on his father wasn’t going anywhere.

Especially when they were staying in a house without proper heating and Sam had no choice but to huddle up with his father.

The second the door opened, John was awake. Eyes closed as he rasped, “Sammy, what is it, baby?”

“I’m cold, Daddy.” He usually tried to look his most pathetic, but there was no point to it when Daddy wasn’t looking at him. “Please? I don’t feel good.”

John rolled onto his back, the covers sliding down to reveal his bare chest. Blushing, Sam forced himself to focus on Daddy’s face, not the soft, dark downy hair covering his chest, his brown nipples, hardened from the cold, the way his abs tightened as he sat up in bed. Sam felt overheated now, his face burning, hands tightening nervously in his shirt. John rubbed tiredly at his eyes, his hair in disarray as Sam waited. Finally, his Daddy smiled and gestured for Sam to come closer.

“Come on. It’s late.” Grinning, Sam rushed forward, climbing beneath the covers. John cursed, bundling Sam in the blankets. “Keep those feet away from me. They’re like icicles.”

Sam laughed, pressing a foot to John’s leg teasingly before he was chased away. John wrapped him tight in his arms with a deep chuckle, the sound warming Sam the way nothing else ever could. He settled, pressed tight to his father’s chest. Safe and warm, with his Daddy right where he should be. Sam had everything he needed.

“Sam?” A voice called out, low with concern.

Sam whined, turning away from the sound. He was tired and he didn’t feel well; he hadn’t been lying. His stomach had felt weird and tight all day, and he felt achy and sore. The school nurse had told him it was just growing pains, he was getting bigger now and his body was adjusting. If this meant he was one step closer to being an alpha like Dean, Sam wanted it to stop. His Daddy was plenty proud of him as he was.

A broad hand spread out over his stomach, rubbing gently. “Sammy? Baby, wake up.” Sam turned over onto his back, a pained whimper escaping as his hair was gently brushed back from his face.

“Daddy?” His eyes opened sluggishly, his face damp with sweat. He was burning up, the sheet sticking to him unpleasantly. “Wha’s going on?”

“You have a fever,” he rasped, brushing Sam’s hair back. He was so close; his scent was everywhere. Rather than making Sam feel better, it only made the fire in his blood burn hotter. He reached out, grabbing his father’s hands and pressing them to his face. John complied, frowning in concern. “Can you breathe okay? Sore throat?”

Sam shook his head, struggling to focus. He felt… strange. He shifted in place. John’s nostrils flared, eyes widening as he stiffened. “Sammy,” he breathed, some of his tension releasing. “I think I know what this is.”

He sat back, tracing his thumb over Sam’s cheek, smiling when Sam turned into his hand. “It’ll be okay. You’re presenting.”

The words set in and Sam shivered. “Didn’t happen to Dean.”

“You’re not an alpha.” He was something else entirely. John laid down next to him, holding his gaze. “It’ll be okay, baby. Daddy’s here.” Sam pressed tight to his front, shaking lightly.

“Hurts,” Sam whimpered, spreading his hand out across John’s chest. His breath hot and wet on John’s bare chest. There was something building, this liquid heat coiling in his center and threatening to burn him up from the inside out. He didn’t’ know what to do, only that he felt a little better when he pressed his nose to his father’s skin.

John cupped the back of his head, carding his fingers through his hair as Sam writhed against him. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew he should’ve taken Sam back to his own bed. There wasn’t a father on this green earth that would think this was a good idea. Then again, there weren’t many that had ever dealt with this situation.

Sam was in heat.

Clearly, he didn’t understand what was happening and John… didn’t have that much more of an idea than Sam did. Omegas were rare. Male omegas even rarer. The few things John knew had been rumors he’d heard from other hunters. But there was no time to worry about his ignorance or his awkwardness. Sam was scared.

“Sweetheart, let’s get you back to your bed.” Sam’s hand twisted in the sheets, his head moving from side to side dazedly. “I shouldn’t—”

“Daddy,” Sam murmured, his lip brushing over John’s skin. “Please?”

It was impossibly easy for him to smooth a hand down Sam’s back, curling around his waist. Sam shuddered, rutting against John’s side as he panted. His pajama bottoms were wet, slick with something John tried too hard not to think about. Sam’s breath quickened, his hips rocking faster, faster still as John stroked his back.

“It’s okay, baby. I’m here.” Sam’s breath hitched, hips stuttering. Wet warmth flooded between them as Sam let out a needy whine. “Daddy’s here.”

* * *

In retrospect, being pressed nice and snug against your father during your first orgasm doesn’t exactly make it easy to be normal afterwards.

Sam’s first heat passed with embarrassing flushed cheeks, wet sheets and decreased eye contact. John had thrown the Winchester version of a party when Dean presented. When Sam presented, his father did everything in his power to hide his discomfort. He held Sam through the first night and sent him to bed with a box fan and bottles of water. Try as he might, Sam couldn’t make it lessen on his own. He thought about that night with his father over and over.

For years.

His father never really recovered. For one thing, John understood alphas. Understood how they worked, what drove them, how stubborn they were. But not a lot was known about omegas. Most thought they’d been virtually bred out. It wasn’t’ just that John didn’t know what to do with Sam – it was that he didn’t know a thing about omegas. What little was out there was mostly porn, fetishized stories of heats and impregnation. In response to his ignorance, John became a bumbling father.

Sam had him wrapped around his finger.

He got virtually everything he asked for. New clothes, each more revealing than the last. A cell phone, because god forbid he be unable to contact his father should he need him. No curfew and time spent at home while Dean and John went on hunts. Sam set his own rules, his own limits and John was fine with that. As long as Sam was safe, he didn’t care that it made him a pushover.

He didn’t’ care that Sam touched his cheek and kissed his lips because he knew it made John flustered enough to agree to whatever he asked. John wasn’t stupid, he knew when to put his foot down.

Like now.

“You’re sixteen, Sam. You’re not going.”

“It’s just a party. Relax.”

“It’s a school night and you’re not going anywhere dressed like that,” he spat. John knew all too well what went on in the minds of teenage boys and he didn’t want any idiot trying something with Sam, who was way too young to know what those kids wanted from him. Sam was sweet and kind and too naïve for his own good. And no doubt Dean would be too distracted chasing skirts to keep an eye on his brother.

“What’s wrong with my clothes?” Sam asked, pulling at his shirt. The white t-shirt was practically painted onto his lithe frame, the denim shorts form fitting and tight. He’d started dressing this way when he started high school and John tried to let it go but would it kill the kid to wear something that actually fit?

“Sam, I’m done talking about this.”

Sam crossed his arms, stalking over to where John sat at the kitchen table. This close, John could smell the light perfume Sam had put on. It barely clouded his soft, sweet natural scent. The one that had slowly been driving John crazy. When he came home late from work at the shop and found that Sam had laid in his bed at some point, that he’d pressed his head to John’s pillows and laid beneath his sheets. It used to be comforting but, nowadays, it left John uncomfortably warm with a guilty knot in his throat.

Like now when Sam was staring down at him with those sad little puppy dog eyes and the pout on his glossy lips. “Daddy,” he said miserably and John clenched his jaw. “Please? It’s just one party. It’ll be totally safe.”

This close, his bare legs were brushing against the rough denim of John’s jeans. The golden-brown skin appearing soft and sensitive to the touch. John swallowed thickly, his blood burning. Sam stared at him appealingly, hazel eyes wide and soft.

Sighing, John touched Sam’s hip, watching him bite his lip nervously. “One hour.”

“An hour?” Sam whined. At John’s pointed stare, he nodded hurriedly. “One hour, okay!”

“And Dean better be there to keep an eye on you.”

“Okay.”

“And you better keep your phone on you.”

“Okay.” Before John could say anything else, Sam leaned in and kissed the corner of his mouth. “Thank you, Daddy!” he called out, leaving in a flash.

John shook his head, touching his mouth.

  
  


While there wasn’t much out there on omegas, John read just about everything he could find. He got pretty good at weeding out bullshit urban legends from proven, corroborated fact. It still surprised him when he found himself halfway through reading an account before he finally realized he was reading porn.

In this one, an alpha “father” attended his omega “son’s” wedding to another alpha. He sat through the ceremony on edge, his hands clenched into fists as the couple said their vows. The entire time, the father described feeling off center, his temper flaring at the mere thought of someone taking his sweet boy away forever. In retrospect, it might’ve been that which left John blind to the fact that this was an erotic story, not a real recollection. After all, John knew firsthand the fear of someone taking his son away.

In dramatic fashion, the minister asked if there was anyone present that would not see the couple joined together in matrimony. The father stood and things took a turn. Interrupting the wedding wasn’t enough, he had to stake his claim. He stripped his son down in front of the crowd and knotted him right there, in front of friends and family, in front of his would-be son in law.

The sex was rough, demanding and possessive. John couldn’t’ stop reading, his blood rushing south. Just the thought of this man openly claiming his son, in front of god and everybody without a care in the world.

Without shame.

Shivering, John read as the man shoved in deep, deeper still, burying his knot inside. John barely had time to unzip his pants before he was coming, spurting hot and messy over his fist. He worked himself through it, biting down on his lip with a groan. Sparks went off behind his eyelids, doing nothing to rid him of the image of Sam bent over an altar, his little hole on display. Imagining how tight and wet he would be inside, what it would feel like to fill him up in front of everyone.

To breed him.

Shuddering, John milked himself dry and passed out on top of his bedclothes.

Sam snuck in around one in the morning.

He’d missed curfew – by four hours.

Dean was already half asleep inside. He’d left Sam with a warning but Sam didn’t care. He was talking to Jeremy, a senior who seemed to really like him. Sam spent the whole night talking to him about books and college and what he wanted to study. Then Jeremy kissed him. All the while, Sam just kept thinking _he’s not Daddy._

He was just a boy. He didn’t smell like safety or home. His scent wasn’t strong and masculine. Sam didn’t feel like Jeremy would take care of him. He just felt like Jeremy wanted to _take_ him.

So, Sam went home. He showered immediately, wanting Jeremy’s scent off of him. Then he tip-toed into John’s room, careful not to let light in from the hall. He slid underneath the covers carefully, sliding underneath his father’s arm. It tightened, pulling Sam in closer and he froze, waiting. Finally, John sighed, burying his nose in Sam’s hair.

Smiling, Sam drifted off to sleep.

John woke with a start.

He’d dreamt that he was waiting at an altar, dressed in black. Sam stood across from him, beaming at him as the minister read from his book. They were getting married, John realized belatedly. It didn’t feel strange; it felt right. He opened his mouth to say his vows when a man appeared over Sam’s shoulder. He snatched Sammy away, yanking down his collar and sinking his teeth into Sam’s neck in a mating bite.

His eyes flashed yellow. 

John sat up in bed, drenched in sweat. Something shifted beside him and he looked over to find Sam had climbed into bed with him at some point. Warming, he brushed Sam’s hair back from his face, dropping a kiss to his temple. He knew damn well Sam hadn’t made curfew last night. They’d talk about it later.

* * *

A month later, Sam planned on making breakfast to make up for missing curfew so many times.

The shower was running when he knocked on the bathroom door. With no answer, he slipped inside, tugging on the curtain a little bit. It slid open further than he’d intended.

“Hey, Dad,” he began, jumping backwards as he took in the sight before him.

His dad was naked, alright. He was also midstroke, his hand wrapped tight around his hard cock. Throbbing and slick, the head a dark red where it peeked out of his fist. Swallowing, Sam’s eyes caught of it for a few glorious seconds before John cleared his throat.

“Sam? You need something?”

Sam’s cheeks burned, his voice weak. “Yeah, um, I just wanted to know if you wanted pancakes for breakfast?”

“Sounds great,” he said gruffly, flashing a smile. He turned towards the showerhead, bracing his arms against the wall. His cock hung heavy and hard between his legs.

Sam’s mouth watered at the sight, his stomach clenching with desire. He forced himself back and headed for the kitchen, his head swimming.

* * *

After Sam’s first heat, John tried everything he could to be prepared for the next one.

It was the reason for the brown paper bag left on Sam’s bed years later and his father’s permanent blush that day. He’d bought Sam a dildo. A perfectly respectable size, but nowhere near large enough to truly be filling. Sam had bought his own not long after, larger and thicker. It had nothing on his father’s cock.

Still, sometimes, Sam found himself writhing around on his bed with that starter toy pressed inside him as deep as it would go. It wasn’t the size that made Sam keep it. It was the thought of his father, blushing and clearly uncomfortable, entering a sex shop to buy a toy for his son. John would shoot himself in the foot before ever bringing up Sam’s heats, but he’d gone into a sex shop to purchase a dildo.

Admittedly, the biggest incentive for keeping it had been imagining that John thought about Sam using it. That he’d gone back into his room that night and touched himself thinking about that toy shoved deep inside Sam’s little hole. That he’d came imagining it was his fingers getting Sam ready for it. His tongue laving over the slick rim before the silicone head pushed inside. It was one of Sam’s favorite fantasies.

From time to time, Sam found himself reading stories online. He used to think he was a freak for his strange attraction to his father. Reading omega stories, he found that it was actually a really common kink among them – most of the writers were omegas themselves. Sam read stories where alpha fathers took their sons at weddings, during heats where they were trapped in elevators or long plane rides, when they were too far gone to say no. On one of his favorite sites, he found a link to a porn video.

Two men sat on a couch, naked, joined in the middle. Judging by the slick dripping from the smaller man’s thighs, he was an omega. The sex, at a glance, seemed rather tame. The alpha rutting into the omega slowly, his hand carding through his partner’s hair as he slowly built up speed. His thrusts became rougher, soft grunts escaping as he pushed deeper inside of him. Looking closer, Sam’s breath caught, watching the small bulge poking out of the omega’s stomach.

The alpha’s cock pushed in deep, his knot expanding. He smoothed his hands down the omega’s chest, thumbing over a swollen nipple as his knot slipped inside. Crying out, the omega’s small cock pulsed and spilled over his belly, come dripping down the small bulge.

The omega murmured quietly into his alpha’s neck and Sam flooded his briefs with warm come. Shaking, he’d nearly milked himself dry before he processed what he’d heard.

“Daddy.”

The omega had said, “Daddy.”

* * *

Sam wasn’t stupid.

He knew, even if his Daddy wanted him, he’d never do anything about it. He was an “honorable” man, in the most infuriating of ways. Sam was seven years old when he learned how to pick a lock. Nine when he learned how to hotwire any car made before 1995. John had no qualms about teaching his sons those skills, but he drew the line at incest.

Sam could strut around their motel rooms in tiny shorts and incredibly small towels. He could drape himself across his father’s lap licking and sucking at popsicles all he wanted. He could wait until his Daddy was nearly passed out in bed and press tight against him. He could call out for him with his toys pressed deep inside, knowing his father was home.

It didn’t matter what Sam did – his father wouldn’t bite. And it wasn’t like John was getting it anywhere else.

As far as Sam knew, his father hadn’t had more than a few one night stands since their mother died. And he always made sure the boys were at Bobby’s or Pastor Jim’s. There was never any overlap.

Which is why seventeen-year-old Sam was more than a little surprised when he came back early from a movie to find the lights out in every room but their fathers. Sam came around the back, peeking in the window.

John was naked, his muscles glistening with sweat. Thighs tensing as he snapped his hips forward, fucking into the writhing body beneath him. There was a woman in bed with his father, Sam realized, his gaze finally falling to the person beneath him. She was beautiful, of course she was. Long, dark hair fanned out across the pillow, his _father’s pillow_ , as he buried himself inside.

Her scent seeping into the blankets as John gave himself to her in a way he’d never give himself to Sam.

Because Sam would never be good enough.

Bile rose in Sam’s throat as he stepped backwards on weak knees.

He stepped on a branch. Even inside, even very much preoccupied, John’s head snapped upwards. His eyes met Sam’s, widening in recognition before they clenched shut, his face going slack with pleasure. His hips stuttered, hands twisting in the sheets as he came.

Sam stood, frozen in place. It was freezing outside, but he was burning up inside.

* * *

Things were different after that.

John couldn’t figure out why. He tried everything; tried staying in one place for longer, tried taking Sam shopping, tried taking him to bookstores and museums. Nothing worked. Sam was colder to him now and John didn’t know why.

He knew it was weird to see your parents having sex. Especially with a one-night stand. He’d thought Sam would have questions or maybe even be embarrassed of what he saw. Instead, Sam had iced him out completely.

He focused on school, the few friends he managed to make in each town. Threw himself into standardized tests and things like homecoming dances and the sniveling alphas that came sniffing around. Dean was no wiser than John and preferred to stay out of it. Screaming matches between John and Sam had become a regular occurrence.

John would set a curfew and Sam would break it, without fail. Sam would leave his things all over the dining room and table and scream at John for moving them. John would forget to leave extra change for the laundromat and Sam would leave no hot water in the mornings. They fought over dinner, over the A/C, over just about anything there was to fight over.

John couldn’t seem to do anything right and the harder he tried, the more Sam punished him for it. And in the midst of all of it, John would remember how happy he’d been years ago when all Sam wanted in the world was to marry his Daddy.

Now, he hated him.

One night, John came home late and shuffled through the kitchen. Not bothering to turn the lights on, he headed straight for the fridge and pulled out the stuff to make sandwiches. There was a note from Dean that he’d be out late, most likely paying a visit to some girl. John grabbed a plate and grumbled to himself when he saw the table was covered in Sam’s things, his backpack covering the corner.

John set the plate down on the table and set about packing everything away. A bright red pamphlet caught his eye, sitting atop a thick envelope. Frowning, John picked it up, peeking inside. His stomach twisted violently, a knot in his throat. He dropped it on the table, the papers scattering across the wood.

“Sam!” he shouted. “Sam, get down here!”

Footsteps thundered down the stairs as John’s heart beat fast in his chest. Sam appeared in the doorway, his hair in disarray. He looked as if he’d been sleeping. Like he’d planned abandoning his family and then slept like baby.

“What the hell is this?” John asked, gesturing to the table.

Sam looked from the mess of papers to John and shrugged. “You called me down here to clean?” He crossed his arms, leaning against the doorjamb. “A bit of an overreaction, don’t you think?”

“I’m not talking about the mess and you know it,” he bit out. He crumpled the pamphlet in his hand. “You trying to leave us?”

“I’m not _trying_ to do anything,” Sam spat, striding forward. “I’m leaving.”

“No, you’re not.”

“You can’t stop me. I’m not a little kid anymore.”

“Sam, you know what’s out there—”

“Do I? all I know is that you dragged me and my brother into a war before we were old enough to know how fucking weird that was. We could’ve had normal lives.” He shook his head, “I’m not giving up my chance. I’m going.”

“It’s not safe.”

“And being here is? With you?” John’s face fell. Sam’s eyes widened, soft for a moment before they hardened. “You want to yell, go ahead. It won’t change my mind.”

John studied his face, the hard twist to his mouth. Sam had always been more like John than Dean. Stubborn to the extent that he’d watch the world burn before he gave in to a fight. Fighting with him had always been harder because he knew precisely where to strike. But he’d learned from watching John.

“That’s how you want to play it, fine.” He rested his hands on the table, holding Sam’s gaze. “See how well you do out there in the real world without me.”

“I think I’ll be fine.”

“You need me, Sam. You’ve always needed me.” Sam’s brow furrowed, tongue swiping over his lips. “None of those other kids understand you. You’re smarter than any of them, and you didn’t have fancy private school tutors or money to buy your grades. You’ve always been the smartest kid in the room, but you need your Daddy.”

Sam swallowed, raising his chin as John crept closer. They were the same height now. A fact John had been proud of at one point. It meant his son would have a better chance fighting off any alpha that got too handsy. Now, that fact meant it was more likely that John would be his first.

“Ain’t that right, Sammy?” he rasped, his hand spreading out over Sam’s stomach. He felt him jump, felt Sam’s pulse like a bird fluttering around in his ribcage. Pressed Sam back into the wall, watching his eyes darken, his lips parting. “You’ve always needed your Daddy.” He leaned in, his breath misting over Sam’s neck. “I’ve always known,” he murmured, sliding his hand down Sam’s back, cupping his ass. “How wet you got for me. Riding your toys and calling out for me.”

Sam shuddered, eyes falling shut as John slid a hand down the back of his jeans. “Did your little friends know that?” John asked, pressing his lips to Sam’s throat. His fingers pressed at Sam’s briefs, the wet fabric sliding across his entrance. “Did they know you couldn’t get off without thinking about your Daddy’s cock?”

Whining, Sam shook his head, pushing back into John’s fingers, as if he could will them inside. “I should’ve bred you,” John muttered, his teeth scraping over Sam’s neck. Sam shivered, leaking more slick. “I can fix that now. Give you something to take with you to Stanford.”

He pulled back, watching as Sam’s eyes fluttered open dazedly. Bright and desperate, his fingers twisted in John’s shirt. “Please,” he rasped, holding John close. “Daddy,” he added softly.

Cursing, John tore at Sam’s clothes, stripping him down. Throwing Sam over the table, his backpack, a plate and an empty glass falling to the floor. John paid them no mind, spreading Sam’s cheeks and burying his face between them. Crying out, Sam grasped at the papers on the table as John sucked and nipped at his rim. Sam was so wet, each passing of John’s tongue drawing more slick. He was dripping, making a mess of himself and papers spread across the table. It only made John dig deeper, lapping at his tight little pucker.

He only got a few fingers in before Sam was begging for his knot. Sam’s clenching around his fingers and he’s so hot inside and so wet, John’s painfully hard in his jeans. He climbs to his feet, hearing Sam whine and beg where he’s stretched out on the table.

Planting his hand on Sam’s lower back, he murmurs, “Needy little thing.” Sam mewled, pushing back into John’s hands as he spread his cheeks and circled the head of his cock along Sam’s hole. It clenched, trying to draw him in. John watched, breath caught as his stomach tightened in want. He pushed in slow, letting out a deep sigh as Sam welcomed him in. Sam moaned, back arching as John bottomed out. Buried to the hilt, Sam clenching around his length as if trying to milk him already. “Keeping me in, Sammy.”

Sam shivered, his cock jerking up and leaking wetly. “Please, Daddy.”

John smoothed his hands over Sam’s ass. “What do you need, baby?”

“Fuck me.”

Grinning, John curled over Sam’s back, lining them up. His hands gripped Sam’s hips, holding him tight. “Who takes care of you?”

“Daddy,” Sam breathed. “Always Daddy.”

John pulled back painfully slow, stopping when just the head was buried in that tight heat. His heart beat fast, stomach tightening before he slammed in deep. Controlled, focused, curving upward as he searched for that spot deep inside. Sam panted, crumpling papers in his hands as he took every thrust. Crying out when John hit that spot and his knees went weak, cock curving up against his stomach.

Sam’s hand touched his stomach, a weak curse escaping as he felt the slight bulge every time his father pushed inside. John’s hips snapped forward, finding that spot every time. Sam’s shivered, eyes wet as he took what he was given. He could feel it – the hardening at the base of his father’s cock.

John covered his hand, panting as his knot pushed inside, spreading Sam wider than he’d ever felt. He gasped, holding still through the slight twinge of pain. John pet his stomach, murmuring to him quietly as he worked it inside. It was overwhelming: John’s scent surrounding him, the heat from his body, his deep voice in Sam’s ear. The pain melted into pleasure as John began to come, the fullness felt inside and beneath their hands.

Sam shuddered, eyes rolling back as he came, spilling over the mess of papers and glossy pamphlets beneath them on the table. John continued to fill him, messy and bare, his hand smoothing over Sam’s skin.

His lips brushed over Sam’s neck, the scratch of his beard making Sam shake with another wet release. “Daddy,” he murmured dazedly.

John laughed, pressing lightly at Sam’s tight stomach. “Not going anywhere without our pup.”

Panting, Sam turned his head, eyes opening tiredly.

When he smiled, John knew he’d been had. He didn’t have it in him to angry. After all, he knew one thing for certain.

No one would ever take Sam away.


End file.
